


Timely Relfections

by ChasingAfterMidnight



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Mild Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-08 11:24:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11080557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasingAfterMidnight/pseuds/ChasingAfterMidnight
Summary: Harry had never expected to find it again. He’d been wandering the castle on nights he couldn’t sleep, or even just to get away from everyone who thought he was the heir of Slytherin. It was the latter that led him to his current situation; in a seemingly abandoned classroom, looking at a very familiar piece of furniture. The Mirror of Erised.Harry finds his way back to the Mirror of Erised over the years. As he grows, so does his deepest desire change with him.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry had never expected to find it again. He’d been wandering the castle on nights he couldn’t sleep, or even just to get away from everyone who thought he was the heir of Slytherin. It was the latter that led him to his current situation; in a seemingly abandoned classroom, looking at a very familiar piece of furniture. The Mirror of Erised. He’d been standing to the side of it, not able to see his own reflection, for the past few minutes. He didn’t know what he’d see if he looked again, and he didn’t want to, again, feel the addictive quality of seeing his desires played out in front of him.

When he first found the mirror at the end of last year, he’d seen his family. It made sense; he was lonely, and he never even truly knew what his parents looked like for the first eleven years of his life. Thinking back on it, he probably only saw them because he was never allowed to express his desires growing up. He’d learned to not talk about himself, not even think about anything he wanted, during his time with the Dursleys, because they’d quickly punish him for being selfish. Wanting to be away from them was his biggest desire, and if his parents had lived, he would never have even met the Dursleys.

It would be different if he had his parents taken away from him when he had been old enough to have memories of them. At least then, he would have had some real connection and love with them, but as it stood, Harry just… didn’t know them, and he never would. It was sad – tremendously, really – but he didn’t know what a life with his parents would be like. He wasn’t too saddened by the fact they were gone, since that’s how it had always been for him.

Also, he couldn’t have wanted them to be alive and with him too much, since the Stone quickly overtook them as his deepest desire. It was funny, that wanting to defy and beat Voldemort was more important to him than his own flesh and blood. And now, with the photo album Hagrid gave him, he had as much of his parents as he could ever have. He also wasn’t as lonely any more – he had Ron and Hermione, and a community of Gryffindors that he belonged to. He wasn’t the same lonely eleven-year-old he had been last year.

His thoughts brought him back to the mirror next to him. He guessed he wouldn’t see his parents, and he obviously wouldn’t see the Stone again. As much as he believed the best thing would probably be to leave without giving in to the desire to see what he wanted most, his curiosity won out. He stepped in to the room fully, and closed the door behind him. He slid off the Invisibility Cloak and stood in front of the mirror.

At first, he was confused. Looking into the mirror’s surface, all he saw was… himself. Still dressed in his robes, looking back at him with the same expression of confusion he wore. Then, the reflection moved. Mirror-Harry’s arm came up and brushed his hair away from his forehead, revealing that what Harry wanted most was to be ordinary, for where the lightning bolt scar sat on his own head, no such mark was on his reflection.

It made sense to Harry. Everyone had always seen him as some kind of celebrity and hero, all thanks to a night he couldn’t remember, and a curse scar he so desperately wanted his classmates to not gawk at. And now, his peers had been turning on him, accusing him of being a dark wizard, some even going as far to say that Voldemort gave him his scar to claim him as a fellow Dark Lord, and gave him the ability to talk to snakes. He wanted to be seen as a normal kid, not some prodigy or mystery that needed to be solved.

Stepping away from the mirror, Harry picked up his Invisibility Cloak and draped it back over himself. Glancing once more at the mirror, he opened the door and left the room, taking note of where it was. He made a vow to himself that he wouldn’t go back, at least until the end of the year. He didn’t want to fall into the trap of going back every night, risking being caught by anyone again. Besides, if the rest of the year continued the way it had been going so far, he didn’t see his reflection changing much over the course of his second year.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Harry found himself in front of the Mirror of Erised, it was just before the end of term. He’d broken away from his friends to find the nearest bathroom, but on the way, he passed the same room he had found earlier in the year. The sight of the innocuous classroom door made him pause. He hadn’t been back to the mirror once since that first trip, hadn’t even let himself wander near the door. Now that he was back again, he was tempted.

He knew his deepest desire would have changed, since nobody was accusing him of being Slytherin’s heir any more, and even the first years had become used to seeing him around the castle and wouldn’t stare at his scar constantly, so a vision of him without his signature lightning bolt scar wasn’t likely to be what the mirror displayed.

“Just a quick look,” Harry said quietly to himself, moving towards the door.

Nobody was around, since they were all heading to the feast, but Harry figured he could be a little late. Nobody would question it, since the events that happened in the Chamber were still very recent.

Closing the door behind him, he took in the familiar sight of the mirror before him. He had been thinking about the mirror for a fair chunk of term, and he was embarrassed to say how long it took for him to realise the inscription was reversed. I show not your face but your heart’s desire. Hermione would have figured it out in an instant.

He wondered if he should have mentioned that he found the mirror again to Ron. If he should have mentioned the mirror at all to Hermione. Ron would probably have wanted to see it again, but Harry doubted his reflection would change. He’d seen himself outshining his siblings, and, as his siblings hadn’t gone anywhere, it would be very odd if his desire to prove himself had left him.

Hermione would probably be offended that she never got told about the mirror, for starters. As for what she would see in its surface, Harry was less certain. His first thought was about academics, and receiving perfect grades on her OWLs or NEWTs, but then he figured it would be more than that. He knew she never really had any friends before Hogwarts, so maybe her with her friends for years to come would be what she saw.

He’d have to tell her about the mirror one day, and see what she thought, or just bring her the next time he found it. He didn’t fully realise it at the time, but he knew he’d be back again on a semi-regular schedule. Harry was still very new to going after what he wanted, or even acknowledging that he had desires, so he was in favour of the idea that he could clearly see what it was he wanted. It was like checking in with myself every now and then.

Back to the present, he was curious as to what he’d see, so he stepped up the mirror and peered in. At first, he just saw himself, but then the image shifted and figures appeared in the background. He saw Ginny, writing in Tom Riddle’s diary, but it was just an ordinary diary. The pages were half-filled, and the writing wasn’t going away.

He saw Ron and Hermione sitting at a table, studying for exams. There were three places at the desk, and once he was looking at them, they looked up at him and mirror-Ron grinned and went to stand up, but mirror-Hermione pulled him back down, and beckoned to Harry to join them. Harry smiled softly. They were acting so normally, studying for exams, Ron and Hermione bickering about study habits or lack thereof, and Ginny was just a shy first year writing her thoughts in a diary.

He wondered what his life would be like if Voldemort really had died that night on Halloween. He would have just been a regular Hogwarts student, with regular worries and regular friendships. His life might be totally different. After all, Quirrell would not have let the troll in, and he and Ron wouldn’t have had to save Hermione from it. They mightn’t even be friends.

Maybe it would be even more significant. Ron had become attached to him after knowing who he was on the train, although he came in because he couldn’t find a free compartment. Draco Malfoy certainly wouldn’t have tried to be his friend, he was sure. He would just be another half-blood raised by Muggles, not anyone Malfoy would want to befriend. He shook off thoughts of “what-ifs” – it was how it was.

Looking back at his reflection, he studied himself more closely. His uniform was clean, and he looked well rested, not the dishevelled look that usually presented itself after his “adventures”. He noticed a piece of paper in the pocket of his mirror self, which had the Hogwarts emblem on it. On closer inspection, it was his exam results for the year.

Harry smiled. His deepest desire hadn’t really changed; it had just evolved. Earlier in the year, he had wanted to be an unknown kid, to be “just Harry”, with no scar. Now, however, he didn’t want to be anonymous – he wanted to be a typical student without the fanfare that came with Voldemort’s attempts to come back or sentient diaries.

As far as deepest desires went, Harry was happy with his. He didn’t know how likely it was to ever happen, with his two years at Hogwarts already being full of mystery and adventure, but it was good to think about anyway.

“See you next year,” he murmured to the mirror. “And I swear, I’ll bring Hermione and Ron next time.”

Harry stepped out of the room and went to re-join his friends at the final feast of the year. He spent the rest of the trip away from Hogwarts enjoying the casual conversation and banter that flowed between his friends. He knew he would never be ordinary, but he sure as anything felt accepted and normal. It was as close to his deepest desire as he figured he could get.


	3. Chapter 3

Ron and Hermione were fighting again. Harry hated being in the middle of both of them when they were like this, having to “pick a side” until they made up. Stupid Scabbers, if he didn’t go missing then they wouldn’t be in this mess.

Harry was in the library, looking for Hermione. Ron had been sticking to him like glue recently, so he hadn’t really got a chance to see if Hermione was okay. Of course, as soon as he mentioned the library, Ron was off to the Common Room to see his other friends, which left Harry in the perfect position to talk to Hermione with no chance of Ron interrupting and making things worse. Harry loved Ron, he really did - they were best mates – but he did have a habit of saying exactly the wrong thing.

Walking between shelves and desks, Harry kept an eye out for bushy hair and a too-large stack of books. Sure enough, as he reached some of the more secluded and quiet desks at the back of the library, he found Hermione. Although, where he had expected a pile of books and parchment, there was just a single piece of parchment.

Hermione looked up when she heard him approaching, and quickly moved her things to one side so Harry could sit down.

“What are you writing?” Harry asked.

Hermione put her quill down gently to avoid getting ink on the desk, and said, “Just a letter to my parents. They like to know what I’m up to.”

Harry eyed the letter. It was messier than her usual neat handwriting, and it was obvious she was venting about the whole Ron situation. Harry thought of what he could do to cheer her up or take her mind off things, and his mind wandered back to a certain mirror. Hermione was always fascinated by new pieces of magic.

“How much do you know about enchanted mirrors?” Harry asked.

“You mean like the ones in Muggle fairy tales?” Hermione asked. “I’m sure they exist, but I’ve not given them too much thought, to be honest. Why do you ask?”

Harry grinned. “Come on, I want to show you something cool.”

Hermione packed away her things, casting a quick drying spell on her letter so it didn’t smudge, and put it in her bag, before following Harry out of the library and towards a seemingly ordinary room. Harry pushed open the door and let her enter. Inside, she saw an ancient-looking mirror.

“Harry… What is this?” She asked.

Harry stepped forward and turned around, dramatically gesturing to the mirror, announcing, “The Mirror of Erised.”

Hermione peered up at the inscription. After a moment of thought, she turned to Harry with a confused expression on her face.

“I show not your face but your-” She started.

“Heart's desire,” Harry finished. “It’s a mirror that shows you the thing you want most. It’s how I got the Stone from Quirrell in First Year. He looked in it and saw himself with it, but Dumbledore had enchanted it so that only someone who wanted it, but didn’t want to use it, would get it.”

“Harry, this is fascinating!” Hermione exclaimed. “Why did you keep this to yourself?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and looked down at the ground. “When I first found it, I didn’t realise what it did. I saw my family, and I wanted Ron to see what they looked like, but he saw his own deepest desire. I only showed him the one time. I wanted it to be my secret, but it got moved eventually.”

“Oh, Harry…” Hermione said softly. “How did you find it again?”

“Last year, when everyone thought I was the next Dark Lord, I used to wander around under the Invisibility Cloak, and I found this room.” He explained. “But that’s not important. Do you want to look in it?”

“Of course!” She said. “What kind of person wouldn’t want to know what they want most? This could give you such an insight on the type of person you are.”

Harry stepped aside and gestured for Hermione to stand in front of the mirror. She stood in front of it and stared. He could see the look of wonder and happiness on her face, before a slight sadness came over her.

“Er, are you okay?” He asked. “What do you see, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s just…” Hermione said. “It’s my graduation from Hogwarts. You’re there, Ron is there, and… my parents are there.”

“Is that bad?” Harry asked, confused.

“No, it’s amazing.” She said. “But, they’re Muggles. They can’t see the castle, and as far as I know, they can’t ever come here. They won’t be able to see my graduation, no matter how much they would like to.”

Harry took this in. His guess last year hadn’t been too far off. In fact, it was a combination of all the things he thought she would see. She saw herself with lifelong friends, graduating with no doubt high grades, and her parents involved in the magical world.

Hermione quickly stepped aside. “Sorry, you probably want to look, too. I’d imagine you want to see your parents again.”

“I, er, don’t see them anymore.” He admitted. “When I came here again last year, I saw myself being normal, and a normal student without Voldemort trying to come back. I’m not really sure what I’ll see now.”

Hermione bit her lip, and Harry stepped up to the mirror. He squinted at his reflection – he looked the same, but what was his reflection was holding? His mirror-self took the item from his pocket, which turned out to be a newspaper.

“I’m holding a newspaper?” Harry said, more than a little confused. “The headline says… Huh.”

“What does it say?” Hermione asked.

“’Black Finally Apprehended’,” he said. “My deepest desire is Black to be arrested and punished for betraying my parents… I guess it hasn’t really changed since two years ago. I still want my parents alive, and they would be if it wasn’t for Black.”

Hermione paused. “It makes sense.” She said. “It’s actually quite mature. You want Black punished for what he did, because you know you can’t bring your parents back. It’s very realistic and achievable.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Anyway, we should probably head back.”

Harry didn’t know what it meant about his character that his greatest desire was for someone to be punished and hurt. Was he truly that driven by revenge? He was barely aware of Hermione taking his arm and leading them back to the library, where they sat in relative silence for the best part of an hour. Did he really have no personal ambition for himself if his desire kept changing, and kept being very immediate?

Hermione saw the far future, and he didn’t think that would change until she graduated. Why couldn’t Harry have seen something like that? He always had to be different, no matter how much he tried not to be.


	4. Chapter 4

The next time Harry found himself seeking out the Mirror of Erised, it was the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, and it was safe to say that his life had changed in the past few years. He found out Sirius was his godfather, Wormtail escaped, his name got drawn for the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric had died, and Voldemort was back.

It was late at night, and Harry had just woken up from yet another nightmare about the graveyard. He’d taken to setting silencing charms around his bed at night so his dormmates wouldn’t hear them and worry. He’d been plagued with dreams every night since Cedric’s death.

Not wanting to go back to sleep, Harry decided to visit the mirror. This time, when Harry sought it, he knew exactly what he would see. That’s why he needed to find it. He needed to see hi- it one more time. He trekked to the same old classroom, but when he opened the door, it didn’t look the same as it always had. Inside was a newly refurbished classroom, ready for use.

The desks were no longer pushed aside; instead, they were arranged in rows, with the curtains drawn back from the windows, letting in light, and making it look like a whole new room. Of course, the one thing Harry was most concerned with wasn’t what was in the room, but instead, what was missing. The mirror was nowhere to be seen.

Harry couldn’t accept this. He had to find the mirror. But where could it be? He wouldn’t rest until he found it. Becoming more frantic, Harry left the room and paced the castle, almost at a run. He needed the mirror. Who could have moved it? Did someone know he’d seen it? He needed it, he needed it, he needed i-

A door appeared to his left. He’d been pacing a plain section of wall, but where plain stone once was, there was a door. Harry approached it and pushed it open. Inside, he saw a chaotic mix of shelves, rows of furniture and books, and a seemingly endless stretch of objects in every direction.

Just as he was about to leave the room and continue his haphazard hunt for the mirror, he saw a formerly dim corner of the room be lit with soft candlelight, illuminating the very object he was seeking. The room had somehow known what he was searching for, and showed it to him.

He slowly walked over to it. He could feel a lump rising in his throat, and his legs felt heavy, yet he still forced himself to face the mirror. As he expected, he looked to the right of his reflection and made eye contact with Cedric Diggory.

Cedric was alive and healthy, and he was brandishing the Triwizard Cup in one hand, and the bag of winnings in the other. Harry felt a sting in his eyes. It was his fault Cedric was dead; if he had just taken the Cup first, he could have saved Cedric from his fate. Cedric should have won. Voldemort shouldn’t have come back.

Harry felt his legs grow weak, so he sat on the cold floor and gazed into the mirror. Mirror-Cedric was smiling at him, and Harry felt an extreme rush of guilt.

“I’m sorry, Cedric,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You shouldn’t be gone. It’s all my fault you’re de… not here. I was never meant to be in the Tournament.”

Unbidden, he felt his eyes well up with tears and he angrily swiped at them. Who was he to feel sad when Cedric was the one who’d died because of him?

“If I wasn’t entered, the maze would never have been rigged. You could have won, like you should’ve.” His voice was wavering and the tears had started to fall. “You didn’t deserve to die. Your dad didn’t deserve to see the dead body of his son.

“I’ve been having dreams of you, Cedric. Nightmares, I guess. They’re usually pretty bad, but the one good part of them is that you’re alive in them – at least, usually for the start. And for the tiniest of moments at the start of those dreams, it feels like you’re still alive.

“I don’t want to leave this room, Cedric. When I’m looking at you now, it’s as if the graveyard never happened. When I leave, I have to go back to reality, and face the looks of the rest of Hogwarts. You know, half of them think I’m in league with Voldemort? Ha, as if.

“I think the ones that give me pity are worse. The ones that feel sorry for me, or try to give me comfort. I shouldn’t be the one getting comfort when you’re the one who’s died. If I hadn’t been involved, you’d be alive.

“I just… Sometimes I wish I hadn’t survived Voldemort’s first attack. It’s selfish – so, so selfish – because Voldemort would still be at power if I wasn’t here, but I wouldn’t be able to ruin anything else.

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly true. I guess I just wish I wasn’t special. You know, that used to be what I saw in the mirror, but now I see you. Every year I’ve been at Hogwarts, something happens because I’m the so-called Chosen One.

“I know I shouldn’t be thinking of myself and my selfish wants when you’re not even alive to want anything, but I just want a year where nothing happens. Where I’m just a normal student, doing normal things. Getting crushes on girls, complaining about homework, going home to a family that missed me so much over the term…”

Mirror-Cedric had long since put the Cup and winnings down, and was sitting next to Harry, listening to the morose teenager vent. Harry didn’t have anyone in his life he could tell this sort of thing to. Harry made eye contact with him, his tear-filled eyes meeting Cedric’s.

“I wish you weren’t dead…” He said, reaching out a hand to touch the surface of the mirror. It was cold and lifeless, and he tried not to think too much about that.

Casting a quick charm, Harry realised that he’d been sitting alone in the mysterious room, talking to the reflection of Cedric, for almost an hour and a half. It was nearing the time when his dormmates would wake up, so he reluctantly got to his feet, ready to head back.

He rubbed at his eyes and willed them to look normal, and not like he’d been crying. That’d be exactly what he needed – people giving him more pity. After judging himself to appear as normal as he figured he’d get, he looked again at Cedric.

He was standing again, doing what he was doing when Harry first looked into the mirror. He took one step backwards, and finally turned away from the reflection. He understood now, more than ever, what Dumbledore meant about men going mad in front of the mirror.

He strode to the door, and with one final glance to the mirror, he left the room and headed back to the Common Room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, a hectic exam timetable was welcoming me.


End file.
